


something wretched about this

by shockvaluecola



Series: i slithered here from eden [4]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Eliot Waugh, Bottom Quentin Coldwater, Cunnilingus, Dildos, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, Explicit Sexual Content, FTM Quentin Coldwater, Gentle Dom Eliot Waugh, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Oral Sex, Pegging, Sex Toys, Switching, Top Eliot Waugh, Top Quentin Coldwater, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transgender, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shockvaluecola/pseuds/shockvaluecola
Summary: Once they were down the stairs and outside, Eliot spoke once more. "So, the usual ending to this conversation is to ask what you want to do next. Any thoughts?""Ummmm..." Quentin thought about it. "Can I ask you to go first?""Sure," Eliot said easily. "I'd love to try spanking you properly. We could discuss transitioning that to face slapping, too, since it seems like you want that, or we could try them separately. Ireallywant to see your ass all red for me, though.""Okay. Um. My answer isn't kinky, really," Quentin said. "I, um, think I'm ready to try front hole sex?"
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater & Alice Quinn, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: i slithered here from eden [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967311
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	something wretched about this

**Author's Note:**

> WOOOOOOO HERE WE GO!!! There's one story left after this; I do not know how long it will take me, but hopefully I can get it out before the end of the year, as my brain has been consumed by another longform concept, which I want to have mostly written before I post any, so that's gonna take some time. And I still might do more after that fifth story if I'm struck with the inspiration, but not in the immediate future. 
> 
> This is a direct sequel to the previous story, picking up the same weekend, so you should probably read that one first if you want this one to make sense. That means go back and read the first one, because the author's note on that one is still relevant here! This story contains a trans man bottoming to front hole penetration, which is definitely not everyone's thing. It's discussed first and telegraphed pretty clearly, and comes nearly at the end of the fic, so I'll include an ending author's note telling you where to stop if you don't want to read that. 
> 
> Lastly, thank you for all the support you all have shown for this series. As we approach the ending, I cannot tell you how much it has meant to me to read all these amazing comments. I did not expect writing this to give ME gender euphoria, but here we are. I love you all.

Friday night's rains had continued into Saturday, a perfect excuse to stay in bed all day, but Sunday dawned bright and chilly, so Quentin was out and about. He took a bagel and a textbook outside, warm enough in a hoodie. He was still feeling the fuck out of it every time he turned his head, the hickies on his neck pulling and hurting, but that was just...satisfying. A pleasant reminder of how goddamn hot his...partner was. (Probably they should have that boyfriend talk soon.)

Someone joined Quentin at his little table and he glanced up. Oh Jesus, it was Alice. He resisted the urge to abandon the bagel and go right inside.

"So," she began. "You're like, _with_ Eliot now?"

This was not a question he should be answering without aforementioned boyfriend talk, but it was hard to give a shit about that if it might make Alice jealous. "Looks that way."

"I'm guessing he did all that to your neck?"

The hood on this sweatshirt sort of gathered around his neck a bit, like most hoodies, but clearly not enough to hide the marks. He was going to have to wear the other one a lot until he healed, or get really good at wearing scarves real quick. "Sure did," Quentin agreed, not looking up from his book. 

"Probably for the best," Alice said. 

If Quentin had to guess he'd say she was trying for unbothered, but she was landing on haughty, and he didn't really have the patience to indulge her today. He shut his book with a snap and put it down on the table. "Can I help you?"

Alice looked a little wounded. "I'm just making conversation."

"I don't see why," Quentin said, glancing away with a little shrug and then back at her. "You obviously don't want to be my friend."

"What...what makes you think that?"

"I don't know, maybe it was how you snapped at me when I tried to return the favor for five seconds and help you, and the way you've been as weird as possible at me for the month since then."

The wounded deer look dropped off her face, and Alice cringed. She tried a couple of times to speak, then just shook her head and sighed. "I'm sorry, Q," she said, and the nickname on her lips felt...better than he wanted it to. "I know I've been weird and I...I had no right to...It was just such a..."

Quentin watched her struggle for a minute, then reached over and took her hand. He rubbed his thumb over the back and took a deep breath. She watched him, and matched it, then nodded a little.

"I'm sorry I ruined things," she said, quieter, but calmer. "South was just...so intense, _really_ intense, between work and helping you. I saw you on the floor in the cubbies, shivering and your lips were blue and I..." 

Her mouth pulled tight and she looked away, and Quentin realized after a moment she was trying not to cry. He gave her hand a little squeeze, and she gave him a watery smile.

"Well, I had to help. And I knew how, so I did. You were obviously hanging by a thread the whole time, I don't think I...even _realized_ how much pressure I was putting on myself. And then we got back through the portal to here and I was thinking, Quentin can go put a real binder on now, and it just...felt normal, and I realized I hadn't even thought about...about what...all that might mean? I hadn't had _any_ time to process it, and the heat made me lightheaded and it all just kind of...um, fell apart at once."

She glanced up at Quentin again, chewing her lip. He'd been listening patiently, letting her get it all out before he let himself react. 

_Kind of like she did,_ he thought, and the thought made something small hurt in his chest.

"It's okay. I get it." Quentin shifted in his seat and shook his head. "I should probably apologize too, I could have-"

" _No_ ," Alice said, shaking her head. "Q, don't apologize to me, please. I didn't do anything at South that you wouldn't have done, if the positions were reversed, and then I treated you like shit because you needed my help. That's on me."

Quentin nodded slowly, taking his time with this. "Okay." He considered a moment. "Then...all is forgiven," he said. "Clean slate." He let go of her hand, then offered his own out for a handshake. "Hi. I'm Quentin. Let's be friends."

Alice smiled at him, small but genuine, and clasped his hand firmly. "Alice Quinn. I think I'd like that."

~

Of course, in Saturday's lazy marathon of napping and fucking, Quentin and Eliot never gotten around to going back to the first year dorms, so that afternoon, they set off across campus. Eliot held a picnic basket that ostensibly held a late lunch, but was empty, soon to be filled with the evidence of their Weird Sex Thing.

"So," Eliot said, tone bright. "We've let enough time pass that the emotions are back to normal, I think. Let's talk about Friday night," he said. "What worked, what didn't. Allow me to start us off by saying I did not love accidentally almost giving you a concussion, so in the future I'll be clearer if I'm gonna be rough, so you can be prepared to guard yourself against injury."

Quentin nodded. "Sounds good." He glanced around as they turned off the path toward the student dorm, but no one was particularly near or looking at them. He reasoned that until they actually went through the door they could just as easily be going out behind it. "Yeah, I mean, I kind of started it by fighting you. I got, um, a little swept up? Like I kinda forgot about the plan and was just...reacting."

"That's okay, it's not your job to remember the plan," Eliot said. "And you're pretty new to this, so I expect you to react in ways we didn't know to be prepared for, at least in the beginning."

"I mean...it's a _little_ bit my job," Quentin insisted. He glanced around again as he pulled the door open, letting Eliot through with the basket first, then followed him. "It can't _all_ be on you."

"As long as you're making your feelings clear to me and not doing anything we've explicitly agreed not to do, the rest is on me," Eliot said. "That's how dom/sub stuff works." 

He ascended the stairs first, and Quentin had a vivid memory of being half-dragged up them, of reveling in how strong Eliot was, how little Quentin could do to resist him if he wanted to. Maybe telekinesis had been helping, but Quentin could feel muscles flexing and working, and the illusion, if there was one, was rock-solid. He cleared his throat. "Well. I did like getting pushed around, so. There's that."

"I could tell," Eliot said, casting a smirk back at him as he reached the top. Quentin shook his head.

"Um, obviously I was into the marks. They still hurt a lot, but I'm also kind of into that?"

"So pain play is on the table. Good to know."

"I mean, I did know that before," Quentin said, pushing the door to the room open for Eliot again. "You're not the first person in the world to bite me or slap me."

"Are we just talking about spanking?" Eliot asked curiously, setting the basket on one of the desks and opening it. "Or something more adventurous?"

"Um," Quentin said, blushing as he picked up the blanket and started to fold it. "I did get slapped across the face one time. It wasn't, uh...in a context where I was supposed to like it? But it was. Um. Like, intriguing, when I. Thought about it. Later."

"Are you saying you got bitch slapped once and then jerked off about it?"

"No!" Quentin said, defensive and glaring over at Eliot. "I just, like...you know. Well, the internet has a lot of niche porn on it."

"Oh, okay. So you just watched porn of it _without_ jerking off immediately, but it definitely got you horny enough to jerk off later, and that's somehow different." Blushing again, Quentin glanced up to see Eliot staring at him with a disbelieving grin. "God, how are you _real_?"

Quentin shrugged, still defensive, and went back to folding the blanket. "Okay, okay," Eliot said, laughing again. "Anything else that didn't work for you?"

"Um, I don't think I want to like, go very far like that again unless it's for a specific reason," Quentin said. "Like in terms of physical distance."

"No, yeah, it was mostly to give you that experience of being hunted, but it was too much to just do for the sake of it."

"The feeling hunted _was_ really good though," Quentin said. "For the context. I could, like, feel you there even without looking and it was really hot."

Eliot gave a happy hum as he took the folded blanket from Quentin. "I'm glad, that's what I wanted. Honestly, the biggest thing that worked for me was just how into it you were? Like, play fighting and giving hickies and dressing up are all things I'm happy to do, but not big faves. What was so hot was how hot _you_ were for it."

"Well, um." Quentin didn't really know how to respond to that. "That's. Good?"

Eliot smiled and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, drawing him in. "It's very good, baby boy." He pressed their lips together slowly, for just long enough that Quentin wanted to open up for him before he pulled back. "It means I'm really fucking into you."

Why did that make Quentin want to get on his knees right fucking now?

Eliot gave him a little nudge back and nodded to the bed. "My belt fell behind there, can you grab it for me? My knee's a little fucked up from slipping yesterday."

Quentin smiled, remembering Eliot trying to do some smooth move where he moved Quentin to a different spot, just for his knee to lose purchase and slam into a bedpost. He nodded, happy to do it, and knelt, blushing a little as he realized that here he was, going to his knees just when he'd been thinking about how much he wanted to. Maybe Eliot was like, secretly partially psychic.

As he crawled under the bed and reached for the belt, he heard a content "hmmm" that made Quentin frown. As he got hold of the belt, it smoothed into a look of annoyance. "Are you just staring at my ass??" he demanded.

"Speaking of niche porn, I have _definitely_ seen this one."

Quentin crawled back, acutely aware of the eyes on him, since he couldn't do anything to _not_ have his ass in the air until he was out. He pulled down his hoodie where it had ridden up a bit, glaring up at Eliot. "Stuck under the bed is like, its own entire genre, actually," he informed Eliot, realizing as the words left his mouth what a shitty defense it was.

Eliot giggled and stepped closer to take the belt, bending to kiss him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said between kisses, until Quentin's frown started to smooth out. "Next time I'll tell you when I'm just planning to ogle you."

"Your knee doesn't even hurt, does it?" Quentin asked, tone accusatory.

More laughter as Eliot stood up straight, but Quentin didn't feel, like, _laughed at_. The sound was just...loving, and joyful, and kind of made him warm even as he felt annoyed. Even that was like, more for the sake of play than because he was really upset by anything Eliot was doing. He couldn't help a little smile up at Eliot, even as his eyebrows drew in like he was mad again.

Eliot's laugh faded to a smile, and he reached out to stroke Quentin's cheek. He realized abruptly he was definitely still kneeling in front of Eliot and that was, _well_ , that was a thing, huh? He bit his lip and glanced down, wondering what his chances were of getting to blow him right here.

"I could slap you so good like this," Eliot said, tone adoring and sweet and so, so soft, and suddenly the fingers still lightly caressing his cheek had a different weight. 

Quentin swallowed hard, looking up at him. "Do it, then."

Everything else had fallen away. Eliot's mouth twitched, and for a second Quentin thought he really might. But he exhaled and looked away, breaking the moment, and pulled his hand away, clenching it into a fist as he took a step back. "Jesus Christ, you have no idea how dangerous you are." 

Quentin licked his lips and stood, recognizing that it wasn't a rejection. "So there's this rule," Eliot continued, as Quentin turned to start stripping the rest of the bed. "No sex during negotiation. I think we might need to institute it, because you, sir, are very naughty and always get distracted, and I'm very naughty because I always fucking let you."

"Why not?" Quentin asked, proud of how non-whiny it sounded. "I mean, negotiation is like, formalized foreplay, anyway."

"Yes, but it's formalized because what comes after has so much more potential to go wrong than regular sex. No sex during negotiation makes sure we don't leave anything out or rush through it to get to the sex."

"Hm. I guess that makes sense," Quentin admitted begrudgingly. "Fine, I'll contain my horny."

"Good. Save it up," Eliot advised. "Then just, like, fucking maul me when we're done."

That made Quentin laugh. He did see the reasoning, and he saw how this was another way Eliot wanted to keep him safe. He wondered if he would ever stop noticing things like this, and if it would ever stop making his chest feel warm.

"So, um, what have we covered? Stuff I didn't like...uh, I mentioned the walking around. Nothing else, like, jumps out as things that weren't good? Is that weird?"

"No," Eliot said. "And you don't have to list out everything that was good and everything that was meh, either, the point of that is just to make sure I don't suggest something you actively hate in the future. I mentioned not loving that I almost hurt you, which was the only dislike for me as well. I want to say how happy I was that you said yellow when you needed to, though," Eliot said. "A lot of people who are new to it, like, think a safeword is a super serious thing that they shouldn't say unless they're basically dying? And the point of 'yellow' is that you're not basically dying, you just need an adjustment."

Quentin nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed while Eliot arranged things in the basket, having gathered everything up that he could see. "Yeah, when you were biting my thigh? It wasn't, like, a crisis or anything, but it was definitely kinda taking me out of it, so. I actually wasn't sure if it was too minor, if I should have just like, said it without that?"

"There's no discomfort too minor for 'yellow,'" Eliot assured him. "And I'm glad you did it, because if you're safewording for something minor, I feel a little bit safer about pushing you, because I know you'll tell me _before_ I go too far. Remember how you said it's kind of your job to take care of me, too? Safewording early and often is the best thing you could possibly do in that regard."

"Okay. Then I will," Quentin said, with one firm nod. "I'm glad I know."

Eliot gave him another smile, then held out the folded blanket. "You're gonna have to carry this, but I've got the rest packed up. Let's head back."

Once they were down the stairs and outside, Eliot spoke once more. "So, the usual ending to this conversation is to ask what you want to do next. Any thoughts?"

"Ummmm..." Quentin thought about it. "Can I ask you to go first?"

"Sure," Eliot said easily. "I'd love to try spanking you properly. We could discuss transitioning that to face slapping, too, since it seems like you want that, or we could try them separately. I _really_ want to see your ass all red for me, though."

"Okay. Um. My answer isn't kinky, really," Quentin said. "I, um, think I'm ready to try front hole sex?"

"Yeah?" Eliot asked, looking over with a big smile. "That's great, we can do that."

Quentin squinted back, sharply aware of the hickies aching as he turned his head. "What's the smile for?"

"It just...makes me really happy, how much you trust me. That's all." Eliot leaned over as they walked to kiss his cheek, making Quentin blush.

"Well, um. I also want to try fucking you. If you're into that."

Eliot looked over sharply this time, and the expression on his face was best described as Very, Very Interested. "Oh yeah?" he asked.

Quentin looked him up and down, licking his lips, and nodded. "Definitely."

"I could be into that," Eliot said, and a month ago Quentin probably would have bought this forced nonchalance, the casual tone, but he was getting to know Eliot a lot better now, and he could see that it was a front. "Do you maybe want to try that first?"

"I can tell that _you_ do," Quentin said, unable to stop himself from poking at Eliot. "I guess, uh. In the spirit of negotiation, is there anything I should know before we, like, get in the room with that?"

"Mmm, just that I don't do it often, so we'll probably have to go slow? Otherwise, if you've done it before I don't foresee any surprises."

"Okay," Quentin agreed, nodding. "Taking my time to fuck you sounds like a total hardship," he deadpanned. Eliot glanced over, and Quentin grinned. Eliot couldn't seem to help grinning back.

When they got in the door of the cottage, Eliot sighed and set the basket by the door. Quentin dropped the blanket on top of it, then grabbed Eliot by his shoulders and pinned him to the door.

Eliot looked down at him, surprised, and Quentin smirked up at him before sinking a hand into his hair and pulling him down for a rough, biting kiss. Eliot chuckled against him and returned it, just as hard. He pushed Quentin back, using his size to drive him back against the bannister. Quentin let him think he had the advantage for a moment, but when they came up for air, he grabbed Eliot again and flipped him so he was the one pinned. Desire registered on his face, and Quentin knew he was right: mister big experienced dominant top had just a little bit of switch to him.

"Oh my god, get a _room_!"

Startled, Quentin took a quick step back, looking in the direction Margo's voice had come from and trying not to visibly wince as the marks on his neck pulled. She and Alice were sitting on the couch in the living room. Oh, god, he was like, dangling his relationship in front of his...not even ex? Surely this was some kind of trashy, anyway. He was paralyzed for a moment, between that and Margo yelling at them.

Alice glanced up at him from her book, taking in the state he was in, then Eliot still standing against the stairs in front of him. She just smirked a little, shook her head, and looked back down at her book, unbothered.

Quentin could feel a dopey grin coming onto his face. It was all okay. She wasn't upset, she just thought it was funny. He was sure he'd get teased about it later, and that would be okay. He let out a breath that he felt like he'd been holding for a month.

"Jealousy is ugly, Bambi," Eliot said loftily, picking up the basket and blanket and starting up the stairs.

"So's your ass!" Margo shouted after him as Quentin scurried up behind.

When they reached the second floor and continued toward the attic stairs, Quentin judged that they were far enough out of earshot. "Your ass is very pretty, actually, and I'm gonna wreck the fuck out of it."

Eliot tripping over the first step up was gratifying. Quentin had been in the headspace of bottoming so far, submitting, but he was in the opposite headspace now, and it seemed like Eliot was as into it as everything else they did. Once they got through Eliot's bedroom door, Quentin shut it with finality, took the basket out of Eliot's hands, and put it on the floor. 

He took a second to read Eliot's face as he reached up to grab his hair. Eliot's eyelids fluttered when Quentin's hand tightened, and his mouth was open a little, relaxed, turned on. It gave Quentin an idea, and he smirked, using his grip to force Eliot down to his knees.

"God, you're not real," Eliot said, one hand on the bed for balance as his knees hit the floor. "You're just a fucking wet dream I'm having. There's no way you can be this hot."

"I'm real," Quentin said, undoing his jeans with the free hand. "And you're gonna make yourself useful while you're down there."

Eliot's breath visibly hitched up, practically hyperventilating, and Quentin couldn't help laughing. Who knew Eliot bottoming was so cute? Quentin got his jeans undone and let them fall to his ankles, then pushed his boxers down his hips to cling to his upper thighs.

"Breathe, El," he instructed, pulling him forward. The sprout wasn't really hard yet, but Eliot wasted no time wrapping his tongue around it, making Quentin's breath hitch. "Okay, okay, not yet, just like, lick around it or something," Quentin instructed. 

"Fuck, sorry," Eliot murmured against him, licking around it, still nudging it but focusing the attention on all that sensitive skin that felt good to be touched, that wasn't bad-weird-sensitive like the soft sprout.

"It's fine," Quentin breathed, letting his head fall back. "You're fine, you're good, that's...fuck..." 

Quentin pulled him away for a moment and sat on the edge of the bed, sure his knees weren't going to support him very long, then pulled Eliot's head back into his lap. He bent over it, licking and sucking with enthusiasm, and with the angle of his head buried in Quentin's lap, he could almost be deep-throating a blowjob. The thought and the image made Quentin shudder, his hand tightening against Eliot's hair and making him moan.

"Okay, okay, suck," Quentin ordered, and Eliot obeyed, wrapping his mouth around the sprout again, taking it to the base and sucking as he rubbed his tongue along the underside. Quentin shuddered and moaned aloud, legs twitching with the pleasure, feeling like it might burn him right up. It wasn't hard to make him come like this, so sensitive and ready for it. Quentin came crying out and imagining Eliot on hands and knees, fucking back against him.

Quentin looked down as he pulled away to see that Eliot was fairly hard, but maybe not all the way -- hard to tell precisely, through the fabric. He ran his toe up the inside of Eliot's thigh, considering what to do about that. Normally he'd get down there and suck him off, but he wanted to keep the current energy going.

"Do you think I should get you off?" Quentin asked, tone even, but genuinely asking. "Because I'm kind of into the idea of just making you wait for tonight. Until I'm inside you."

"That," Eliot said quickly, arms braced across Quentin's legs. "Make me wait. Please."

Decision made, then. Quentin smiled. "Okay." He leaned down, tilting Eliot's chin up to kiss him. Eliot was enthusiastic and needy about it, but didn't try to chase it when Quentin pulled back, eyes staying fixed on him.

"I do need to get some studying done," Quentin said with a tinge of regret. "And I want to get things set up nice for you. Give me like...three hours?"

Eliot nodded. "How would you feel about having a date first?" Eliot asked. "There's a portal, I'll take you out to dinner."

Quentin smiled. "That sounds nice, yeah." Another kiss, and then he set about pulling his clothes into place. 

Eliot smiled up at him, open and loving, and for a second Quentin was just...stricken. He was so fucking gone for this man. 

"Pick you up at seven," he said, and Quentin thought the next three hours might as well be three years.

~

It took some effort, but this wasn't the first time Quentin had to study while completely lovesick. He managed to buckle down and concentrate on the reading, then got down most of the first draft of an essay about probability and Circumstances, in between dragging his fingers over the aching hickies and staring dumbly out the window. Then he unearthed the shoe box from its hiding place in his closet, and set it on his bed.

He looked around, considering where the setup would go best, then carried it to his dresser and flipped the top off. The harness was on top, a haphazard mess of straps. He took it out and tossed it back to the bed, then started taking out his actual dicks.

He had six in all, all body-safe -- seriously, where did anyone get off making fucking toxic sex toys? -- and harness-compatible. Sometimes he used them on himself, but he had other favorites for that, these were mostly for other people. They weren't visibly dusty, but Quentin picked up the pack of sex toy wipes anyway and gave each of them a quick polish. Then he arranged them by size along the edge of the dresser.

First, the big guy. Bigger than Eliot, it would almost look like a joke dick if Quentin hadn't seen people take it up various orifices with great enthusiasm. It was pretty firm and unyielding -- it had to be, to get up a hole at this size, he had to be able to apply pressure with it. It was a flesh tone a little darker than his own, the head airbrushed appealingly red. The base had a suction cup, so he suctioned it to the wood. 

Next was Jimbo. A considerable step down from the big guy, it was still pretty significant, a decent eight inches with an appropriate matching girth, and the skin tone was almost an exact match for his own, which was nice. No suction cup, but a flared base wide enough to balance on.

After that came Sparkles. A respectable size, but most importantly, it was six colors poured in succession to make a gay pride flag. Quentin's dream was to one day find this in trans colors, but he supposed every queer was contractually obligated to acquire a version of this toy at some point. It had balls and a suction cup, so a firm press and it stayed. 

Next was the pinch hitter. Welcome in every situation, it was average human dick sized, jet black, and a soft and cushiony texture. There was no vein detailing on this one, it was just smooth with a somewhat impressionistic head, but the pleasing give to it was plenty of attraction on its own.

Second to last was the little guy. An inch shorter than the pinch hitter but a tad thicker, it was more realistic-looking, with balls and veins and a color that was more...brown than anything that would match Quentin, but like, it was fine, dick color could be weird. It was also angled, which made it look a little out of place between all these dicks standing tall, but it was well-balanced, standing on its own.

Finally, Squirt. Frankly, Quentin would be a little disappointed in Eliot's lack of ambition if he picked this one. Its redeeming quality was a nice curve, this dick was designed to go directly for a prostate or G-spot without passing go, and it had acquired its name after what it made a particular girl do. Still, Quentin was hoping to take his time and make this last, which wasn't really Squirt's thing.

He turned to the bed now, picking up the harness and untangling it. He'd bought it as soon as he turned eighteen, having saved up from his summer bookstore job between junior and senior year, and he got something high-quality and adjustable, so he could keep wearing it if he gained or lost weight. He hadn't had penetrative sex at the time, so he'd been expecting this to be basically his only method of having sex for at least a decade, unsure if he even wanted bottom surgery as well as knowing it wasn't a fast process. Even at eighteen and stupid, he knew that merited a real investment.

He'd definitely figured out penetrative sex now, but the harness was still a part of him, an extension of him. Quentin knew it like he knew his own hands. He stripped down and put on some more form-fitting boxer briefs, then pulled the harness on over them.

The secure hold felt good as he tightened the straps down, adjusting until it was wrapped around him exactly the way he wanted. It was like...armor, and like lingerie, and like a hug, all at once. Even without anything in it, the gender euphoria it induced was heady.

This ritual complete, Quentin looked and saw he had twenty minutes to get ready. Eliot hadn't told him to dress up, so he went for 'nice dinner at Bennigan's' level, picking nice jeans, a button-down, and a sweater. He wore the sex binder underneath, not wanting to bother trying to change in between date and seduction. He shaved without looking in the mirror, because he didn't want to get distracted by his marked-up neck, then changed his sweater, because he'd gotten shaving cream on it. At 6:57, there was a genteel knock on his door.

Quentin opened it and was briefly blown away by how good Eliot looked. Was he ever going to get used to this? Or was Eliot going to keep blowing his mind with these stupid sexy waistcoats and suspenders and his stupid sexy eyeliner and his goddamn fairy tale cock for as long as this relationship lasted, however long that might be?

Most confusingly, Eliot gave him a slow look up and down with this excited smile like Quentin was anywhere _near_ as hot as he was, which made absolutely no sense at all. 

"Um, hey," Quentin finally said, lifting a hand to touch his neck, then forcing it back down.

"Hey, handsome," Eliot said, still smiling, and offered his arm. "Ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah." Quentin grabbed his wallet and slipped it in his pocket, sparing one last glance at the dicks lined up on his dresser -- the door hid them from Eliot's view -- before closing his door and taking Eliot's arm with a bit of a blush.

"So, um, where exactly are we going?" Quentin asked as they left the cottage.

"New York," Eliot said. "I know a cute little bistro. Have I told you how perfect you look tonight?"

"Um." Quentin could feel himself blushing. "No."

"Hmmm. Well, worry not, that's only the first of many times it's going to happen."

~

Dinner was fun. Quentin wanted wine, so Eliot had judged that their plan for the evening wasn't a scene, as such, just sex, so it was fine if they both had a few glasses. The combination of the harness squeezing Quentin under his jeans and the ache at his neck had him relaxed and happy, and the wine only made him moreso. He was feeling loose as they stumbled back through the portal, giggling about it as Eliot squeezed the arm around his shoulders.

"Okay, okay, no," Quentin said, sniffing and composing his face. "Serious. We're serious Brakebills students returning from a serious academic trip."

This only made Eliot giggle again, which made Quentin giggle harder than before. They got distracted near the library for kissing, Eliot with his back against the bricks and Quentin leaning into him, craning his neck up to reach. For a giddy moment, before he could think about how weird he looked, he thought they must look like some kind of greeting card. All that was missing was Quentin's foot popping.

"Okay, okay, come on," Eliot said, breaking away with a giggle. "A Knowledge student's gonna come out of the attic to beat us up with a book." He reached up as he said it, though, dragging his own fingers over the marks on Quentin's neck.

Quentin made an incoherent noise and pressed in closer. "Gonna have to stop doing that first."

"Yeah?" Eliot asked, grinning. "Feels good, baby?"

Quentin nodded, and Eliot kissed him, but then held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, letting Quentin pull away.

It was true that except for them, the campus had that kind of heavy stillness that accompanied a Sunday night. Everyone was inside, and no one was playing loud music or having big parties. The rains of Friday and Saturday had left the air cold and clear and still, so no one wanted to be outside. Quentin, actually, was included in that; he'd just gotten so distracted with Eliot.

"Okay, okay, you're right," he agreed, taking Eliot's hand and bundling a little further into his coat to continue the walk to the cottage. He could do this whole seduction thing much more effectively once they were warm and indoors. Once inside, Quentin led Eliot up to his own room, instead of Eliot's, where they normally went. Home court advantage, right?

"Okay, so, um," Quentin said, locking the door behind them and turning on his desk lamp, for light that was enough to see the room by, but still fairly dim. "Do you still want to do this? Me being on top?"

Eliot smiled down at him and leaned down for a kiss. "Yes, I want to. Anything in particular I should be doing or knowing?"

Quentin shook his head. "Just, um. Let me take over. Cause if you try to take control, like, guaranteed I'll let you, because you're too fucking hot, okay?"

Eliot cracked up a little at that, but he nodded, visibly working to compose himself. "Noted. Let you have control. Although you didn't have any trouble when you busted my lip the other day," he added.

"Yeah, but you weren't trying," Quentin said. "If you try, you'll win, is all I'm saying, okay?"

Eliot kissed him once more, and when he pulled back, his expression was different. Softer, more...pliable. "Where do you want me?" he asked, and his voice was softer too.

It gave Quentin confidence, and he took a breath. He'd fucked guys before. He knew how this worked. He'd been planning to get Eliot pinned down, but on the spot, he was changing his mind. He took off his coat and hung it, not offering to take Eliot's, and kicked off his shoes. Then he turned his desk chair so it faced Eliot. 

"Strip."

To his credit, Eliot didn't flinch or question it. He just took his coat off and hung it next to Quentin's. He shot a glance back over his shoulder, coy, and then bent to untie his boots, so they could be kicked off too. It was such an obvious 'look at my ass' move, it made Quentin laugh, but it was fond and loving. It was such a goddamn Eliot thing to do. And it wasn't like the ass in question was any hardship to look at. 

Eliot stood and faced him again, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest. He smiled, and Quentin couldn't help smiling back.

"Enjoying the show?" Eliot asked.

"First act is promising," Quentin said, sprawling back in the chair a bit. Legs apart, elbows on the arms, one hand rubbing idly at his chin. "Would hate for the finale to disappoint, though."

"Brat," Eliot accused, but he was grinning, and Quentin grinned back. As Eliot tossed the vest over the footlocker at the end of Quentin's bed, he turned enough that Sparkles, in all its rainbow glory, caught his eye. He looked, then looked again, then looked back at Quentin, eyes a little wide.

Quentin just smiled. "You said you wanted to choose. You'll get to. The boys are excited to meet you."

Eliot laughed, but it was breathless and punched-out, obviously fighting its way past raging hormones. Good. Quentin sighed and let a hand come down and rub between his legs. It was cute how Eliot's eyes glued themselves straight there.

Next was the tie, and as Eliot started to unbutton his shirt, revealing chest hair, Quentin undid his button and zip. He spread open the placket of his jeans and hooked a finger in the central ring of his harness, adjusting it a little and drawing Eliot's attention. The black straps stood out nicely against the heather gray of his briefs. For a moment, Eliot squinted, and then his eyes widened again.

"You were..." Eliot swallowed visibly. "You were wearing that the whole time?"

Quentin just smiled at him again, eyes crinkling at the corners. Eliot let out a shaky breath and doubled his pace on the buttons.

"I'm not normally this thirsty to bottom," Eliot said, voice unsteady, but determined. "But you've got me... fuck, Quentin. I need you to fuck me so bad."

"I know," Quentin said, soothing. Seeing Eliot so wrecked for him was intoxicating, an incredible ego boost, but Quentin wanted to stay steady. "I will."

Another punched-out laugh. "I kind of want to call you sir, you've got me so fucked up."

Quentin sat with that idea for a second, pretending like just the idea wasn't making the sprout throb. "We've both been drinking," Quentin pointed out. "And we both had more than one. We can't negotiate, or do, anything kinky right now."

Eliot nodded as he dropped his pants, then picked them up to set them down nicely. "You're right. I just want to."

"Do you think you can do that without it being a deeper thing?" Quentin asked, eyes on Eliot's briefs where he was visibly mostly hard. "You can call me whatever you want, I'm gonna do what I'm gonna do. I don't think a nickname needs negotiation on its own."

Quentin was still staring unashamedly at Eliot's dick as he played with the waistband of his underwear, so he didn't know what his face was doing. "I'm...I'm not sure."

"Well, whatever you decide, I'm open to it," Quentin said. "Now take those off."

Once given the direct order, he didn't dawdle, stripping off his underwear and putting them with the rest of his clothes, leaving him bare to Quentin's eyes.

Quentin spared a moment to look, just taking him in. "Not bad. Do you want to make your choice now or when it's time?" he asked, nodding slightly toward the dresser.

"I..." Eliot bit his lip, looking a little bashful. "I'd say later, but. I kind of already know which one I want."

"Oh?" Quentin asked, raising his eyebrows. "Well, go on then."

Eliot licked his lips and turned back toward the dresser. He went straight for his choice, and brought it over: Jimbo. Pretty close to Quentin's favorite, really. He nodded approvingly. "Nice. Why don't you give him a kiss? Get to know each other a little."

With his shyness about picking, Quentin had expected him to be shy about this, too. Instead, Eliot just smiled and, keeping his eyes on Quentin, gave the side a filthy, openmouthed kiss before running his mouth up to the head. Quentin had definitely meant to use this time, but he was distracted, tracking the progress of Eliot's lips. He hummed, closing his eyes, and took the head in his mouth.

The breaking of eye contact was what made Quentin remember, and he shook his head, looking down. He unsnapped two of the snaps that held the ring in place -- out of five in all -- then reached up, making a 'give it' gesture to the toy. Eliot pouted, but handed it over, watching as Quentin fed the toy up through the ring, then re-snapped the snaps, holding it firmly in place. Quentin gave it a tug, then pushed it up to lay against his stomach. It took the stress without trouble, so he deemed it good.

"Help me get undressed," Quentin said. Eliot nodded and stepped closer.

"Yes, sir," he purred, and Quentin had to admit he liked the sound of it on Eliot's lips. He bent to grab the hem of Quentin's sweater, stealing a kiss on the way, then peeling it up. Quentin lifted his arms, then sat back to allow Eliot access to his shirt buttons. It was kind of a power move, but also, prevented Quentin from doing anything embarrassing like getting stuck in his sweater in the process of disrobing. 

He kept his eyes on Eliot's face even as Eliot focused on the buttons. Eliot's eyes kept flicking downward, to where the cock was sticking out of Quentin's jeans. "Eyes on your work," Quentin instructed. "Or I'll just make you suck on it until I get bored."

"I mean," Eliot said, a little smirk on his face as he got the last buttons and pulled the shirt untucked. "I do love sucking cock, so don't threaten me with a good time."

"Really?" Maybe it was because the shirt was coming off now to reveal the binder, but something was suddenly hitting Quentin's brain weird. "You'd do that? Even though it's not...like..."

Eliot, having discarded the shirt, put his hands on the arms of the chair and silenced Quentin with a firm kiss. "If you think I'd miss out on sucking your cock for anything less than a serious medical emergency, then you're a beautiful little idiot, and I'll just have to suck your cock until you shut up. I told you the first time we were together that you're gorgeous, Q. If I have to, I'll keep telling you until you stop doubting it." He moved his hands up to cup Quentin's cheeks. "If I ever stop wanting to touch you any way you'll let me, then I've been replaced by a doppelganger and you need to tell Margo. There's a code word."

Of course Margo and Eliot would have a doppelganger code word. Quentin needed a minute to process all this. "Do you think Julia and I should have a code word?"

Eliot grinned and kissed him again, then got on his knees. Quentin inhaled as Eliot wrapped his mouth around it and started to bob his head slowly, taking his time.

"If you, um," Quentin said. "If you press it down with your mouth, I can..."

Eliot tightened his lips and pushed a little, and Quentin sighed as it put just the right amount of pressure on the whole area, including the sprout. "Yeah, that's good," he sighed, keeping heavy-lidded eyes open to watch Eliot work. "Push up just a little, like, up towards me...fuck, yes, god," Quentin groaned, hips arching a little into the pressure, although he was aware that he was working with rather more than usual, and shouldn't thrust too hard lest he hurt his partner. Looking down like this, he could see it when Eliot wrapped a hand around himself, moaning a little around Quentin's dick.

He just watched for a minute, then his gaze sharpened. "Hey," he said, a little more firm. "I didn't say you could do that."

Eliot pulled his mouth off with a pop and leaned back on his heels, giving Quentin a show. "Guess you've got to punish me, then. Whatever shall I do?"

Quentin couldn't help smiling even as he rolled his eyes. "Come on, help me with the rest," he said, nudging Eliot's knee with one sock-clad toe. Eliot quickly relieved him of it, then the other, then grabbed the waistband of Quentin's jeans. He gave his cock another sloppy kiss on the head, then Quentin lifted his hips for the jeans to come off and be tossed aside.

"On the bed," Quentin told Eliot, who'd been staring eagerly at his cock again.

He laid back and Quentin crawled up between his legs, leaning over to grab the lube off the night stand. As he sat back, Eliot was finishing a tut over his stomach, drawn against his skin like a sigil. He winced, then relaxed and laid back. Quentin stared, nonplussed.

"What was that?" It didn't look like the birth control ward, and also, like, that wouldn't make sense for _multiple_ reasons.

"Cleaning spell," Eliot said. "Gets the internals all ship shape."

Quentin gaped. "There's an _enema_ spell? Why haven't we been using that?" he demanded.

Eliot laughed at his outraged expression. "Because it hurts, I wasn't gonna do it on you without discussing it."

"Okay, well," Quentin said, leaning down to kiss him. "Next time," another kiss, "we'll discuss it," another kiss.

"Sounds good," Eliot purred. "Now, to business, perhaps?"

"Dork," Quentin said with a grin, and kissed him one more time before sitting back on his heels again. 

This part, he was pretty well familiar with. He squeezed some lube out of the bottle onto two fingers, then flipped the top shut and set it aside. His touch was gentle and exploratory as he just rubbed against the hole, testing and spreading the lube before he started to press one inside.

"You know there's a..." Eliot's voice was strained, and he exhaled shakily as Quentin withdrew and pressed down with two. "There's a spell for this too, you know. Get me wet and loose all at once."

"Not on your fucking life," Quentin said softly, watching as his two fingers sank in up to the knuckle. 

"It's just, it's, um, been...some time, I don't really-"

"Eliot," Quentin said, looking up at him. "Do you trust me to do this?"

Eliot looked a little startled. "Of course I do. It's just, um, gonna take a while, and..."

"Do you trust me to have the patience to take a while on it?"

Eliot licked his lips nervously, but nodded.

"Okay then," Quentin said, that settled, and turned his attention back down to what he was doing with his fingers. He crooked them experimentally and rubbed a little. He gave a satisfied hum when Eliot's whole body jerked. That was gratifying.

"I j-just, don't want you to, um-"

"Oh my god," Quentin said. "Do I have to put something in your mouth again to get you to shut it? Stop _thinking_ ," he said, softer, leaning up to kiss Eliot. "It's like you just ate my anxiety, chill out. Let me make you feel good."

Eliot exhaled. "You're right," he agreed, visibly relaxing. He laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "I trust you, sir."

Quentin smiled and kissed the inside of his knee. He could absolutely get used to this. "Tell me if anything doesn't feel good."

He took the opportunity to just enjoy the zen of it, to get into the feeling of Eliot so tight and hot around his fingers. He tried to imagine how it would feel around a cock, how hot Eliot would be getting filled up with Quentin's come. He shivered and turned to press his mouth against Eliot's knee, teasing his third finger at Eliot's rim.

"Not yet, not yet," Eliot breathed, squirming a little.

"Okay," Quentin soothed, touching his side to still him. "Just touching like this for now, is that okay?"

Eliot nodded. "Feels good."

Quentin licked his lips and looked back down. Eliot was gonna look pretty all stretched and wrecked, anyway. Quentin's breathing picked up just picturing it, so pink and wet, and his free hand grabbed his dick, pushing down on it a little to make himself sigh.

"What are you thinking about?" Eliot asked, soft, and Quentin glanced up to see him lifting his head off the pillow, eyes on Quentin's hand.

"You," Quentin said. "How good you look. How good you're gonna look after I fuck you."

Eliot exhaled sharply. "Yeah? What am I gonna look like?"

Quentin swallowed, feeling a little silly, but he pushed through it. "You're gonna be so pink and wet. Your...hole is. And loose."

Eliot groaned a little, and one big hand came to stroke his cock. Quentin licked his lips, watching. "That big dick's gonna bounce all over the place for me, get wet all over your stomach. Maybe I'll lick it up after you come all over yourself."

" _Q_ ," Eliot moaned, and he squeezed his dick.

Quentin started applying pressure with the third finger again, and Eliot gasped and arched down on them. Taking that as a yes, Quentin carefully slid them all in. "Good?"

"I want you inside me so bad," Eliot moaned, and Quentin kind of had to laugh at how that was _not_ an answer to that question, and yet, contained all the information he needed.

"Gonna do this for a minute," Quentin said. "Then you'll get it."

When Eliot's hand slid away from his cock after a while, Quentin decided to take that as a sign that he was ready. He picked up the lube and added a little more to Eliot's skin, then slicked a generous amount onto his cock, shivering just at the visual of it. When he looked up, Eliot had his hands behind his knees, toes still on the bed, but spreading himself open and offering it up, eager and ready for it. 

Quentin let out a shaky breath and positioned himself on his knees, rubbing the head of it right along Eliot's hole.

"Ready?"

Eliot nodded eagerly. "Fuck me," he breathed out.

Biting his lip, Quentin held it steady and pushed gently. There was a lot of resistance, Eliot still seemed tight, so Quentin didn't push hard, just keeping the pressure steady. Eliot was taking deep and measured but fast breaths above him.

Quentin could feel the sudden release of pressure when the head slipped past that inner ring of muscle, and Eliot let out a strangled sound. "Good?" Quentin asked, a little breathless.

Eliot nodded, fingers digging into his knees. "Fuck me," he groaned again.

Quentin shifted their positions a little, pulling Eliot's hips up into his lap so Eliot could let his legs relax and Quentin could rock up against him. It wasn't a position for super fast or dramatic thrusts, but it kept him deep inside Eliot, and he could do this good, short slide, and if he spread his legs just a little more... _yes_ , a moan punched out of him as the harness pressed into him just right.

"You look so good," Quentin panted, grinding up into Eliot, giving him just enough movement to feel the friction inside. At this angle, he had to be pressed up against the prostate too, and the way Eliot's cock was drooling felt like a confirmation. "Oh my god, _Eliot_ , you look so good."

"You can feel it, can't you? On your sprout," Eliot breathed, tone awed. Quentin nodded, wrapping his hand around Eliot's cock to jerk him as he thrust. "Oh my god, baby, that's so fucking hot, I want you to come fucking me, please baby, come on," he moaned out.

"Gonna," Quentin groaned, tucking his chin down against his chest. It was kind of a mistake, because he caught sight of the binder and was briefly distracted, but it was easy to look back up and forget again, only remember how good it felt. It wasn't that getting fucked felt bad in any way, but fucking someone felt so goddamn _right_ in a way that was hard to match. He looked down at where his cock was disappearing into Eliot, stretching him open, and groaned again, hips jerking up.

Eliot started grinding down on him, putting more pressure on the harness, and Quentin cried out. "Come on, baby boy," Eliot breathed out, and Quentin glanced up to see Eliot watching his face intensely. "Come for me, Q, Quentin, come on, come so hard inside me, I bet that feels so fucking good, baby, you're fucking me so good, come on, come, I wanna see you come, come inside me, please baby, please, _sir_..."

That word on Eliot's lips tipped Quentin over the last little bit, and he cried out, hips jerking desperately up against Eliot's ass. Almost as soon as it passed he was too sensitive and had to pull out, letting go of Eliot's cock, too. He bit his lip against a noise of protest, only partially succeeding at muffling it, but Quentin looked up at him with hooded eyes, mouth open as he panted. 

"Turn over."

Eliot moved at fucking light speed, flipping over and getting his ass in the air. Quentin slid back inside him easily, and the angle was a lot more forgiving now, still some pressure on the sprout, but a pleasurable amount, an amount he could handle. He reached out, sliding a hand into Eliot's hair and pulling, then reaching out to encourage Eliot to touch himself, so Quentin could hold onto his hip for stability.

"Yes, fuck, pound me," Eliot moaned, voice all full of filthy pleasure. He sounded like a goddamn porno, but like, a million times better. In this position, Quentin could give him long, deep, satisfying strokes, hips smacking firmly against his ass with every thrust. Eliot wasn't trying to hide any sounds anymore as Quentin pulled his head back by the hair, crying out so loud that it echoed off the walls. 

"Gonna come on my cock?" Quentin asked, voice ragged.

"Yes," Eliot moaned out. "Yes, god, sir, please..."

"Do it then," Quentin grunted. "Come."

And to his shock, it _worked_ , Eliot shouted again and went vise-tight around Quentin's cock, so tight he couldn't really move without fear of hurting him. He sounded like he was getting the orgasm of his goddamn life, and it made Quentin shudder, grinding in a little for some extra pressure on the sprout. The pressure pushed another shudder out of him, like a second, mini orgasm, just in time for Eliot to go slack with a sighing groan. Quentin let go of his hair, then carefully slid out of him, flopping ungracefully over onto his back.

Quentin's head had been all full of ideas about looking at Eliot's ass and telling him how good it looked, but he was exhausted, actually, and what had sounded so hot a minute ago was cheesy and slightly embarrassing now. That was fine; fortunately he hadn't actually gone and done it yet, so the thought could stay inside his head. Inside voices.

He felt a curl of pleasure in his belly at how wrecked Eliot probably was, though.

"Fuck, Q," he breathed, shifting over and draping an arm across Quentin's chest. It made him aware of the binder again, which he was definitely sweating into. Gross. He was also aware of the bruises on his neck again, deep and satisfying and painful, but they'd faded into background noise while he was all hopped up on pleasure and toppishness.

"Yeah," Quentin agreed, letting a hand come up to rest on Eliot's forearm. "You okay? Nothing hurt or anything?"

Eliot shook his head, then propped himself up on his elbow, still a little breathless as he looked over at Quentin. "Might be a little sore, but, worth it." The grin he gave Quentin was utterly fucked-out.

Quentin couldn't help grinning back, rolling a bit to kiss him. His dick smacked Eliot in the hip, making him glance down.

"Ugh, okay, let me get this..." He rolled the other way, getting up on unsteady feet. The expert working of a few buckles and the harness dropped to the floor. Quentin dropped his boxers, too, only feeling a teensy bit self-conscious, then climbed back into bed, under the covers this time.

Eliot made a gesture and the harness picked itself up from the floor and floated over to rest on the dresser. Quentin saluted it as it went. "Thanks for your service, Jimbo."

Eliot was cocking an eyebrow as Quentin looked back. "Jimbo?"

Quentin smiled and lifted his head, pointing along the line as he rattled them off. "The big guy, Sparkles, the pinch hitter, the little guy, Squirt. And Jimbo," he added, gesturing behind them where the harness was.

"There have _got_ to be stories behind those."

Quentin just laughed. "Sparkles just seemed appropriate for a rainbow, really."

Eliot climbed under the blankets and snuggled up close again, arm across Quentin's abdomen this time. He kissed one of the marks on Quentin's neck, then his cheek, which made Quentin turn towards him. He got a glimpse of soft hazel eyes and pink lips before Eliot was kissing him.

That was all it was for a few minutes, making out slow and lazy in the afterglow. It was pleasant, pleasurable without being _pressure_ , and Quentin let himself get lost in it, floating on the waves of Eliot's tongue in his mouth, the hand tangled into his hair. He lost track of time, not knowing how long they spent like this, but his lips felt tingly when Eliot pulled back for air.

Quentin made a soft little surprised noise when he felt Eliot starting to harden against his hip. Eliot gave a soft purring hum, rubbing into his hip a little where he'd tossed a leg over Quentin's. "Should probably stop if we're not going for round two," Eliot murmured.

Quentin kissed him in response, firmer than before, making Eliot chuckle against him. Eliot pressed him back to the bed, shifting more properly on top of him, straddling his hips.

"Much as I'd love an encore, I think my ass is done for the night," Eliot murmured. Quentin just smiled, eyes closed. "Oh my god, look at you all smug," Eliot laughed. He leaned in for another kiss. "You earned it, baby. You fucked me so good."

The affirmation made Quentin shiver, and he leaned up for another kiss. Eliot gave it to him, then sat up, bringing himself further away so Quentin couldn't try to distract him again.

"So, since we can't do that, I was thinking about trying the front hole? We don't have to," he was quick to say. "I'm perfectly happy with whatever you want to do. But you're so loose and happy," he said, running his hands slowly, almost languidly, up Quentin's sides and back down over his stomach. "Seems like the perfect time, hmm?"

Quentin licked his lips nervously, but nodded. "Yeah. Okay. You're right, it's. Better when I'm relaxed."

"Good," Eliot murmured, coming back down on top of him, propped on his elbows and brushing Quentin's hair back. "So relax for me, baby." He ducked his head and kissed over Quentin's neck, making him shiver with the sensitivity. "You'll tell me if anything doesn't feel good, and I'll stop, right? So there's nothing to be nervous for. We're not playing, technically, but you can tell me yellow if you're unsure of something, okay?"

Quentin nodded and laid his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, keeping himself relaxed and easy. He'd done this before, it was fine. It would all be okay.

"Good boy," Eliot whispered, kissing his forehead, then sat up again. Quentin felt the covers be pushed down out of the way, so only his feet and ankles were under the blanket, and then Eliot was nudging his legs apart, so not even that.

"I love how eager you are," Eliot murmured. "It's an honor that you're so comfortable with me, of course, but what really gets me is how _hungry_ you are." He was sliding his hands up Quentin's thighs, achingly slow but steady. "Everything I offer you, you gobble it up and grab for more. Do you have any idea how hot that is, Quentin?"

The sound of the cap on the lube being opened made Quentin shiver and warmed him at the same time. They hadn't discussed it again, but Eliot had remembered that Quentin needed lube.

"Um, I should, um," Quentin breathed out. He took a second to put the words in the right order. "I don't know if I can, um...well, you're big, and the front hole has a, uh, backstop, that the other hole doesn't," he said.

"I know what a cerv-" Eliot stopped himself, considered, and started again. "I know what parts there are, Q. I've seen the diagrams."

"Okay," Quentin said, exhaling. "Just, um. You might not be able to get as deep."

"I'm investigating," he reassured, and Quentin twitched a little as warm, slick fingers touched him, just teasing around the hole, like Eliot had been taught to do with his tongue. "I'll figure it out, don't worry, baby boy. Just relax for me. You're so beautiful, and I know you don't know it, but you are. Watching you open for me like this turns me on more than anything has in a long time."

Quentin reached behind his head to grab the pillow, legs spreading further and hips arching down to invite Eliot in. His fingertips just slipped inside, questing and testing, making Quentin moan. The way Eliot was talking kept it from feeling too clinical, kept him turned on. He knew it was silly to think he could, like, actually feel where blood was going, but he could definitely feel that the hole being played with was alive and sensitive, he could picture it all puffy and pink. The sprout was getting hard, too, and Quentin flopped a hand over just above his pubic mound. He could rub his thumb along the sprout without too much effort, just playing with it lightly, making himself sigh.

"God, I love watching you touch yourself. Not a lot of guys our age know their own bodies as well as you know yours. Just makes me want to sit behind a desk and take notes, learn at the feet of the master until I can make you feel just as good as you make yourself feel."

"I jerked off thinking about you," Quentin breathed. A knot of nervousness sat in his stomach, but he tried not to listen to it, push through and keep talking. "The morning after the party."

"Really?" Eliot asked, fingers sliding deeper, making Quentin's legs twitch. "Fuck, that's so hot, baby boy. I had no idea."

Quentin nodded, licking his lips. "Laying right here, just like this. I thought about letting you strip me down and fuck my ass, fill me up."

"Yeah?" Eliot asked, obviously into this and eager for more. He was thrusting his fingers slowly, taking his time with it. "What was I like, in your dream? Was I rough with you?"

"You didn't have to be," Quentin sighed. "Your cock was so big I just let you do what you wanted to me."

"Tell me about it, baby," Eliot encouraged. "Tell me what happened."

"Um. Well, it was...a fantasy, so. We did some stuff that took more time in real life."

"That's fine, baby, I just want to hear it. You can't just tell me you jerked off about me and expect me not to ask for details," he said, tone gently amused.

Quentin didn't really remember details exactly, but he could fill in gaps with guesses. "I touched myself like this," he said, rubbing the sides of the sprout between his fingers, like he always did when he was trying to come. He just did it for a moment, not wanting to get too worked up now, before going back to rubbing gently. "And fingered my ass a little."

"And what a fuckable ass it is," Eliot purred, one finger straying to pet over the hole. "What did you think about?"

"I got on my knees for you," Quentin said, definitely remembering this part, he'd dwelled on it so much. "Saw firsthand how big you are, swallowed as much as I could. In the fantasy I got it right down, no choking or anything. I knew, um, you were pressed up against me when you kissed me and I could feel how big it was, so I knew. You pulled my hair a lot, you were loud."

Eliot reached his free hand up to sink it into Quentin's hair, giving him a firm little tug. "Did I come down your throat?"

Quentin shook his head. "You stopped...well, not really, it just kinda faded into you going down on me, sucking me, with my legs over your shoulders. You told me you were gonna fuck me now. Y-you..." Quentin stuttered to a stop as Eliot gently eased a third finger into him. "You, um, you made me finger myself open, for you to watch? And then you put me, uh, on my hands and knees and fucked me, and you were talking a lot, and uh, I didn't last very long after that," he said with a little laugh.

"I talked, hmm? What was I saying?" The fingers slipped out, and Quentin whimpered, but Eliot shushed him gently, and something blunt and warm rubbed against him.

"Oh fuck," Quentin breathed, hitching his legs a little bit wider. He was ready, Eliot had gotten him plenty wet with lube, and the gentle fingering had gotten him over the initial shock of being touched. "You t-talked about, um, how much I loved taking your cock and, uh, you called yourself Daddy, so, like, _called it_." 

Eliot hummed, and he might have said something, but Quentin didn't hear it over his own moan as Eliot slid inside. The hot stretch was just as good as it would have been at his ass, and Quentin put more pressure on the sprout, breathing through it. God, he was going to be so sore, the front hole didn't see nearly as much action as his ass did, but it was so worth it.

"That's it, baby, breathe for me," Eliot murmured, nudging all the way inside. Quentin flinched at the twinge as the head of Eliot's cock bumped the end of the passage, but he seemed to feel the resistance, because he didn't apply pressure or try to keep pushing. "You're doing so good for me. You're such a good boy," he whispered, starting to move, slow and easy. "Feel good, baby boy?"

Mostly the answer was yes, but Quentin flinched again. "Ah, little too deep, just a little..."

Eliot paused and readjusted his knees on the bed, then resumed. "Better?"

"Yeah," Quentin sighed, hitching his legs up over Eliot's hips, clinging to him. "Yeah, god, _Eliot_ ," he moaned.

"I love the sounds you make," Eliot whispered, propped on his elbows on either side of Quentin's head. "You make sure I know it when it's not working, but you sound like you're getting the fuck of your life every goddamn time. I want to take you out to a cabin somewhere, a little cottage where the closest person's three miles away and you feel safe to scream your head off for me. I wanna see how loud I can make you get when you know no one else can hear you."

" _El_ ," Quentin moaned shakily. Eliot had kind of nailed exactly what would make Quentin comfortable with that; all the silence wards in the world wouldn't convince his brain that no one could hear him, but with some time, he'd feel safe to be that way with Eliot -- as long as they were _very_ isolated. 

"Yeah? You like that idea, baby boy? I've got a million more. I wish I could show you your face in the middle of getting fucked, so you could see just how pretty you are. With that open, eager mouth, your eyes closed, it's porn all on its own."

"Pretty sure you're full of shit with that one, but okay," Quentin gasped, bringing a hand down between them, trying to rub at himself again. Eliot seized his wrists, though, pushing them up over his head and pinning them there, making Quentin shiver with need.

"Next time I'm gonna tie your hands like this," Eliot purred, but Quentin shook his head.

"Don't," he breathed out.

He could practically feel Eliot cocking an eyebrow. "No? You don't want to see how good I can make you feel, baby boy? Don't wanna be all trussed up and pretty for me?"

Quentin shook his head again. "S'better when you hold me down."

He opened his eyes in time to see Eliot's face, the expression he made at that. He was staring down at Quentin with his mouth open, and he looked...stricken, and disbelieving. For a second, Quentin worried, but then Eliot started to smile, the look morphing into one of hunger and greed. 

"Yeah, baby? You like it when Daddy holds you down?"

Quentin nodded eagerly, neck aching at the movement, making his pleasure spike again. "Y-you, when you tied me up with your, with your belt it was good, but I wanted it to be your hands. They're, they're so big, a-and..."

"Whatever you want, baby boy," Eliot purred. "God, you make me want to give you anything. Fuck whatever hole you want, touch you, suck you, do anything to make you feel good. Do you fucking know how much I want to make you feel good? How hot it is when you start shaking cause I'm doing it right? You're shaking right now, baby boy."

Quentin hadn't been thinking about it, but it was true, his legs quivering where they were resting over Eliot's hips. "I, I, I wanna come," he gasped.

"Yeah? Can you come just like this for me?"

Quentin nodded, frantic and shaky. The stimulation of being fucked wouldn't quite be enough on its own, but friction against the sprout was going to do it for him, Eliot's well-trimmed thatch of hair rubbing it with every thrust. The weight of his body provided pressure and the hair poked sharply in a way that might have been uncomfortable if he wasn't so, so fucking turned on.

"Good, I want to see you come on my cock, baby boy. It's so good, every fucking time, feeling you squeeze down and shake all over, I fucking love it. I'll never get enough. You're so goddamn hot, Quentin, you make me so hot for you. Even just this, letting me hold you down, I love your arms and your shoulders. I love how they look like this. I love how you're letting me, how you're so open and you just want to take everything I give you. Come for me, baby boy, let me watch you, come on, come."

As if on command, Quentin's whole body wound tight like a spring, seeming to hang there for a moment, and then he sprung all at once, shouting to the ceiling as he shook and clenched hard, hands squeezing Eliot's so hard it must hurt. Quentin felt like he might cry, it was so intense, Eliot's voice washing over him in waves as he praised Quentin for it, telling him how good he was, how hot he was, how good it felt.

As he came down, the pressure on the sprout was painful now, and his hole was overworked and raw-feeling, and he flinched, legs curling up a little. Eliot didn't need to be told to pull out, fortunately, and Quentin relaxed once he did, letting himself go slack, hands giving Eliot's one last squeeze.

"You're so good," Eliot was whispering, kissing over the marks on Quentin's neck, making him shiver. "So good. So good. I love fucking you so much." He lifted his head, looking Quentin in the face. "With me, baby?"

Quentin nodded, still a little fuzzy, but present. "Did you...?"

Eliot shook his head and let go of his hands to sit back on his heels, his cock bobbing between his thighs. Quentin licked his lips as he propped himself up on his elbows, thinking about sucking it as Eliot took hold of it.

"You lay back, baby," Eliot whispered, reaching out his free hand to press on Quentin's shoulder. "Just watch. Watch what you do to me."

He shifted until his intent was clear, until his cock was angled to spill over Quentin's stomach. Quentin licked his lips again and nodded, laying back, but pulling the pillow up so he could watch. He could just reach to rest his fingers on Eliot's knees, skating over his skin, just touching him for the sake of it.

It didn't take long. Eliot grunted low in his chest as he started to spill over Quentin's skin, painting stripes over him, marking him. Quentin bit his lip and watched as Eliot threw his head back with the last throes, hips jerking up against his hand as he stroked himself through it.

"I love your hands," Quentin said, soft and dreamy as Eliot let go of himself. Eliot smiled, eyes still closed, and let his head loll down to look at Quentin.

He froze at the same time as Quentin realized it. "Shit," Eliot said.

"Fuck," Quentin sighed, rolling off the bed, looking down at his binder, which now had Eliot's come all over it. 

"Q, I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's not your fault," Quentin cut him off, sounding annoyed, but trying not to let Eliot think it was directed at him. "I should have thought about it." He winced in the brightness as he flipped the bathroom light on and started quickly undoing hooks.

"It won't hurt it, will it?" Eliot called.

"No, I just have to rinse it fast, before it like, soaks in." Quentin shucked it with record speed and turned on the cold tap, holding the soiled part under the flow. "Stay out there, please," he added, almost an afterthought. Eliot still hadn't seen him without a binder.

"Of course," Eliot said, though Quentin could hear that he'd moved right next to the door. "I really am sorry."

"It's okay," Quentin told him. "I mean, this isn't really much worse than sweating into it all day and night. It should be fine, it's coming out."

"Good." There was a pause. "You know, you can leave it off, if you want." His tone was a little forcedly light. "Only if you want. You know, if you're ready. I'll turn the light off out here if you want, so I can't see."

Quentin thought about that as he checked the fabric, trying to detect any trace of semen. There was still a little tackiness, so he stuck it back under the water. "Um. Go ahead and turn the light off. I'm still deciding."

"Of course," Eliot said, and Quentin couldn't hear his footsteps over the water, but soon, the only light was the bathroom light. If he decided he needed another binder, at least the darkness would give him cover to get to his dresser and get it on unseen.

On the next check, it was clean, so Quentin draped it over the curtain rod to dry. "Um, be there in a sec," he said, shutting the door so he could do the after-sex pee ritual. Sitting and looking up at the dripping wet garment, he reflected that he really ought to learn a spell for getting liquids out of fabric. Really, the sweat management alone.

At the bathroom door, he took a breath and turned the light off before opening it. He'd wiped himself down while doing his business, so he was as clean as he cared about, but he hesitated in the doorway. "Do you need a washcloth or..."

"No, I found your tissues," came Eliot's voice, sweet and a little sleepy. "Come snuggle."

Quentin took a breath and came to bed, crawling under the covers and reaching out in the dark until his hand bumped warm flesh. A big hand wrapped around his, lifting it until Eliot could kiss his fingers. "Hi, baby," he said, and Quentin could hear the smile.

He couldn't help smiling back. "Hi."

A little nervous, moving slow, Quentin turned to lay down so his back was to Eliot, tugging him forward by their joined hands. Eliot got the idea and rolled over to meet him, snuggling up behind him warm and solid. Quentin tugged Eliot's arm forward over his waist, a safe distance from his chest, but still protective and loving.

Eliot laced their fingers together and kissed the back of his neck. "All good?" he asked, voice soft.

Quentin stepped back and examined his own feelings. It was...fine. Maybe he wouldn't be fine in the morning, maybe he'd end up clutching the blanket to his chest until Eliot was turned away, but the idea didn't scare him. If it happened, he had no doubt that Eliot would take it with grace. Everything would be just fine.

"Yeah," Quentin said with a little smile, closing his eyes and resting his head. "All good."

**Author's Note:**

> They start moving toward front hole sex after Eliot says "Should probably stop if we're not going for round two." So in this version of the fic they stopped and went to sleep like the half-drunk nerds in love they are.


End file.
